Wrong place, wrong time
by Lace Doily
Summary: She stood trembling; no sound was escaping her mouth all she could do was stare from the now dead men in the room to the green clad men standing above them.


As she walked along the newly damp pavement Harleen's small sensible heels made a clicking noise, it was yet another hopeless day at work, and she had still gotten no progress from Joker. All he did was patronize and stare blankly at her as if she had no brain at all it was now that she wondered why on Earth she had wanted to work on Joker nonetheless work at Arkham.  
Every day was the same, listening to the cries and pleas of its inmates that had long ago lost any sense of sanity. Most of them just shouted vile crude things at her as she walked by their doors, even though the padded rooms she could still hear them.

Like an echo that never ended. Every day. It was routine now, go to work, cry at lunch, and try to get something out of joker, walk home and have a glass of hard whisky to forget what that day had brought. Some life, she scoffed at herself. Two years ago she imagines by now she would have made a break through on a patient, got married and began to settle down.

But no, it was her routine, she was stuck in a rut and she knew it. Never had she ever had any time to go to bars, meet men, or bring/be brought home. In Gotham who would want to marry a shrink at Arkham….'would probably think I'm just as crazy as my patients….patient.' she thought to herself.

Through her two years at that hell hole she never had any other patient other than Joker. Other employees have said that she's the closest to ever get into Joker's sick head, but never close enough.

Harleen sighed, if she wasn't so stubborn she would've quit years ago, she kicked a pebble out of her way before walking into a liquor store to her left. She nodded to the owner as she always had before going to her usual isle. Picked up her usual whiskey and checked the expiration date, as she usually did. Nothing out of the ordinary as she slumped her way to the checkout, she glanced at the cashier he was newish, only working her for a week.

A handsome young man, she had guessed twenty but last time she had asked he never answered, he was a curious fellow indeed; never said much. He was usually quiet and unusually calm for living in a town like Gotham, but tonight he was the complete opposite, he was shaky and when she handed him the money he dropped it behind the counter.

Before he kneeled down the retrieve it his eyes darted from side to side as if someone where going to gun him down on the spot. Harley raised her brows, but decided to shrug it off, not everyone can be a pillar of strength, she guessed he was expecting and ex-girlfriend to come in and kick him where the sun dont shine. He scanned the whiskey with trembling hands, ripping the receipt handing it back to her.

"Thanks." She mumbled as she walked back to the darkening night outside, she screwed the lid off taking a long swig. The smell of smog was heavy in the air tonight, the small groups of smokers outside the door were no help at all, it smelled even worse than McDonalds serving 3 month old expired burgers but with the stress of her daily work life she nearly asked one of 'em for a drag.

She shook her head then began to take a few long strides away from the cramped store before realizing the little bastard never gave her change back. She scowled pondering whether to let him have it or to go back and let some steam off on the poor schmuck, nodding to herself inwardly she swiveled around on her heels marching back in the liquor shop, slamming the door back open the bell dinging then falling off the top of the door behind her.

"Hey you punk! You ripped me-" She stopped mid bellow as her eyes scanned the now crowded room, the cashier was now a small crumpled lump on the floor blood pooling around him, to her left she took notice of the dead store manager as well. Men in strange green uniforms with a long black question on the back stood around the dead cashier pistols and knifes in hand.

She stood trembling; no sound was escaping her mouth all she could do was stare from the now dead men in the room to the green cladded men standing above them. They were as silent as she; regarding and looking back at one another trying to figure out if they should kill her or knock her out. One of the larger ones cleared his throat trying to signal one of the others they all shifted awkwardly looking around their group, for someone it seemed.

It wasn't until the leader of the pack stepped from behind the large body guard, that green top hat and question mark cane…she knew instantly.  
"Riddler." She whispered.

He grinned widely at this statement, his eyes wide with excitement. He knew who she was as well; they saw each other in passing, on more than one occasion. He had even spoken to her only once, but it was so long ago she could hardly recall what it had been. He took a move toward her hand extended toward her, and it clicked in her head that now she should run, Harleen spun on her heels racing out the door her heels now clicking at a different pace.

People's faces became blurs as she shoved past to find somewhere to hide more and more people began to fill the small space as she moved toward the populated area. People scowled at her as to them she rudely shoved and screamed for them to get out of their way.

It wasn't long before she heard angry bodies charging after her, people grunted as they were shoved into walls and garbage and everything in between with their much more massive force. She kicked off her heels to move faster they were only slowing her down anyways; they lay in the center of the crowed intersection. Cars zooming passed as she charged across the street, cars honked and people screamed vulgar slurs out their windows.

Brakes were screeching but nothing at that moment mattered other than getting the fuck away from them. She knew what they did to witnesses, even Riddler's crew, nothing compared to Joker's record or even Scarecrows, but it was all the same here, she would die by their hands one way or the other, but Harleen was determined not to let that happen.

She more skills than the average schmuck of a witness she knew where to hide where not to go, she studied this for years, she wrote her thesis on these people, she could make it.

Harleen rapidly looked behind her turning into a gloomy alleyway, they hadn't made it this far yet, she looked forward to see a metal fence quickly making its way closer, she cursed her small body as she remember trying to climb the rope back in high school and falling on her face not long after she began. With adrenaline pumping she jumped on the fence slowly scaling it, looking behind her to make sure there was no one coming.

Surely if they gained on her by now they would've had her, at the rate she was climbing, one hand in front of the other sweat building up on her palms and forehead, as she reached up to get higher her sweaty hand slipped and was caught on a sharp piece of metal jutting out.

It sliced into her hand leaving a large wound across her palm, blood dripping from her palm. She reached back up trying to continue on, they still weren't behind her and she suspected they kept going past the ally like in those stupid old cartoons she use to watch as a child, once she reached the top she jumped down landing on her knees.

"Shit!" She breathed, using the fence to pull herself up, her blood smearing on the cold metal. She was up and running once again, as she huffed she looked back behind her, only the bloodied fence and some trash cans, she smiled she had lost them!

Yes- she ran full force into what felt like a cement wall, Harleen fell backwards her head smacking against the concrete. She blinked her eyes open in a small slit, as she looked up she looked right into the sea blue eyes of Edward Nigma.


End file.
